Smiting
by BrandSpankingNew
Summary: It starts with the pizza man. Dean's always the one who gets roped into this kind of thing, so when Cas can't understand why the babysitter liked it when the pizza man spanked her, he does his best to explain. But then things take a darker turn. Warnings inside.


Author Note: This is a little bit of a different flavor than I usually write, but it's good to try new things, right?

Warnings: **_Non-consensual spanking_**, physical abuse discussion of child abuse, religious symbolism/ imagery (of the Abrahamic variety), discussions of sexual practices and BDSM, undernegotiated kink.

Like I said, we're trying something new here, folks. Let me know what you think.

* * *

"That's very complex," Cas said clinically. From the corner of his eye, Dean could see him staring at the TV screen with an intense fascination.

"M-hm," Dean murmured, not looking up from his research. His eyes were getting tired from poring over the small print in the dim light, and the last thing he wanted to do was lose his spot.

Castiel continued speaking, his cadence slightly stilted. "If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear?"

_What the fuck?_ He glanced up, his eyes darting to Sam's. Sam looked dumbfounded, a red flush climbing his face.

"Perhaps she's done something wrong," Castiel said, almost but not quite to himself.

Sam sent a trapped look towards Dean, who sighed internally. Why did he always have to deal with this crap?

"You're watching porn?" He hoped Cas could hear the disapproval in his voice. The stress of Sam's missing soul and their inability to locate Crowley had them all on edge, snapping and short with each other, but rubbing one out in the middle of the living space wasn't the way to deal with it.

Cas gave a quick, tiny nod without looking away from the screen.

"Why?"

"It was there," he said evenly.

Dean could sympathize, he really could, but fucking hell did Cas need to learn about timing. "You don't watch porn in a room full of dudes. And... you don't talk about it. Just turn it off," he managed to growl out emphatically between gritted teeth.

Castiel's intense staring at the screen was broken as he looked down at his own lap, his face the picture of absolute bafflement. It only took an instant for Dean to realize why.

He turned away, rolling his eyes. "Oh, now he's got a boner," Dean said, exasperated.

Sam jumped to his feet so fast he nearly knocked his chair over, catching it at the last second and aggressively pushing it against the table. "I'm gonna go, uh, call Samuel, see where he's at," he floundered.

He nearly bolted past Dean and out the door. The thud as it slammed was loud enough that Dean winced.

Sammy had never been great with awkward conversations, even when he'd _had_ a soul.

Dean, on the other hand, could remember giving Sam "_The Talk_." Well, Dean's version of it anyway. It had mostly been, don't jerk off where we can hear you, don't screw without a condom, and if it looks red, bumpy, or otherwise weird, don't touch it unless you want your junk to also look red, bumpy, and weird. He'd then handed off a girly mag stolen from a gas station and considered his part done. Sam could figure out the rest from the public libraries he loved so much.

The kid had been mortified, but it all seemed to work out. There had been no unplanned babies at least, and that was all Dean could hope for.

The girl started to fake-moan, and Cas looked unsettled. _Damn it_. As much as Dean didn't want to, they might have to talk about it.

Dean stood and strode over to the couch where Cas sat. He snagged the remote from the end table, and hit the power button. The screen thankfully went black, and he dropped the remote back on the coffee table. He looked down to Cas, who was now focused on the remote.

"Alright, do you need me to give you _'The Talk_' or can we skip that?" he asked. He remembered the night he'd tried to get Cas laid when he'd thought the world was ending, but he'd assumed Cas knew what to do, and his only real advice had been about money and keeping things basic.

"I like when we talk," Cas replied in that frank way of his. Right. Cas had trouble with euphemisms sometimes.

"No. I mean, yeah, talking's great," Dean clarified, seeing a touch of hurt on Cas' handsome features, "but there's a difference between talking and _'The Talk'_." The hurt disappeared only to be replaced with confusion.

"I do not understand," Cas admitted.

Dean sighed. For this, he deserved a drink.

He made his way to the fridge, grabbed a beer and popped the top, taking a couple good swallows. Then he returned to the couch and sat on the opposite end from Cas. He set the half-emptied bottle on the end table with a grimace, then leaned forward with his clasped hands between his knees.

"Alright, angel sex ed, got it," he said grimly. "Let's do this quick before Sammy gets over his embarrassment and comes back."

He kept his eyes on his interlaced fingers. He'd refused eye contact last time he had given _The Talk _and by God, he wasn't about to change what worked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas turn sideways, angling his body so he was facing Dean. "Is that a reference?" Cas asked.

Dean plowed forward. The only way out was through. "You _do_ know how sex works, though, right? Like, physically?"

"I am an angel of the Lord, Dean," Cas replied. "I was around when the planet went from pairs of each species to an abundance of fauna. Both times. I do not find the mechanics confusing."

"Alright," Dean replied, relieved. At least he wasn't going to have to explain the logistics behind playing hide the sausage to one of the heavenly host.

"What I do not understand," Cas said, "is the direct sequence of these events. They appear unrelated."

"Huh?" Dean said. He risked a glance over at Cas, who seemed intent on the dark television screen. The wrinkles on his forehead told Dean he was doing a lot of thinking.

"The pizza man. He punished the babysitter repeatedly, but then she laughed and they began copulating with great enthusiasm. That does not seem like a logical conclusion."

Alright, so he wasn't going to be clarifying mechanics, but he'd still have to try to explain getting kinky to the most literal-minded angel he'd ever met. _Great._

"Physical injury does not seem arousing," Cas continued. "I have been wounded many times, both in battle and as retribution, and it has never made me wish to engage in coitus."

Dean actually laughed at that and felt himself relax a little. He took another drink from the beer bottle before leaning against the back of the couch and looking up at the ceiling, stained beige from years of cigarette smoke. People did talk about this kind of shit with their friends sometimes, right? Just because his best friend happened to be an attractive celestial being…

"No, I wouldn't expect it to," he said. "But he didn't injure her. It was pretend. Hell, a little smack like that'll barely leave a pink mark."

And he felt he was in a good position to know.

Lisa'd had a pretty mean swing on her and a riding crop they'd both been fond of, and he'd picked up more than a few kinky one-night-stands over the course of his travels.

He fondly remembered the handsome biker with those _hands _that had driven him wild in Tucson, although he'd forgotten his name. He'd only called him _Sir_ anyway.

There had also been the tiny brunette in Michigan whose nails had furrowed his back. She'd left him the next morning with a bruise on his cheek, bite marks across his torso, and a smile on his face. He'd wondered if she was possessed, but she didn't react to the holy water so he figured she was just intense.

Intense was exactly how Dean liked it.

"Being hit causes pain," Cas pointed out. "And the hitting of a person's backside is a well-established form of punishment. It has been standard for millennia."

"Yeah, but not all pain is a bad thing. There are levels," Dean said. "Sometimes pain can feel pretty good, given the right context. It's not like he was actually punishing her. That was just a few love taps."

He saw Cas blink thoughtfully, perhaps filing away the idea of a love tap. "So where is the line between the kind of pain that is pleasurable and the kind that is punishment? I do not think I've ever encountered it. Most everyone who has hit me was attempting, at the least, injury."

He and Cas had the oddest conversations. This was going to be another one of those weird ones that crossed the line some. Like the one about personal space. He still wasn't completely sure that had sunk in yet.

"I mean, that's probably different for everybody," Dean said after considering for a moment. He liked his partners intense and not afraid to rough him up, but he also knew that there were people out there who wanted a lot more pain with their pleasure, and some who kept things strictly vanilla. "If you want to make it pleasurable, it's gotta be at least a little sexy, you know?"

Cas repeated, "Sexy?" The word sounded foreign on the angel's lips. "I do not understand that word in this context."

Dean laughed a little, determined not to make it too awkward. "Yeah, man. You know? Take it slow, kind of sensual." He smirked, remembering for a moment. "You have to mix up the sensations, maybe tease 'em a little bit. Very few people will enjoy themselves if you just lay into them as hard as you can."

Cas nodded as if considering. "So the intensity creates a punishment?" Cas asked. "Hitting hard?"

"Partly?" Dean said, unsure how to explain. "Sometimes hard can be good." Damn it, what a wasted innuendo. "But it's more than that. It's…I don't know. There's an intention behind it. Punishment is one intention, and it's mostly about pain, maybe a little fear, but like, the bad kind." Dean took another swallow of beer. "When it's not punishment, it's supposed to be about fun, or sex, or trust or whatever. So even if you hit just as hard, it doesn't hurt the same way."

He shook his head aggressively. "It just feels different, I guess. I mean, I remember being spanked as a kid, and I'll tell you right now, it ain't the same feeling."

He thought of some of the childhood spankings he'd gotten. A couple had even been deserved. But he could remember being terrified and in pain too, and not understanding why his dad was so angry.

John had never set out to beat his sons, Dean knew, but his temper had been explosive. Occasionally in the heat of anger he'd hit too hard, go too far. He'd always tried, once he'd cooled down, to make it right. But Dean understood, better than most, that you can't always undo what you've done.

It was why he'd panicked so much when he'd shoved Ben. Just like his dad, he'd unintentionally crossed that line, hurt his… hurt a kid. And just like his dad, he'd felt remorse but didn't know how to show it.

"You'll know the difference. You can feel it," he assured quietly. "As long as you're paying attention."

Castiel still looked a bit unsure. Dean sighed. "Listen. If you want to try it, find someone you feel safe with and take it slow. You can work your way up to something more intense if you want. Doesn't mean you have to have sex," he added hastily, remembering exactly how unsuccessful Cas' last attempt to get laid had been. "Could hit up another brothel. There are ones where they'll smack your ass if you ask nicely."

"I did not enjoy the den of iniquity," Cas remarked. "I doubt I would find another more pleasant."

Dean drained the last of his beer and set the empty bottle on the table. "I dunno, dude, maybe we can find a chick for you at a bar," he said.

Cas shrugged. "I do not understand why the gender of the person matters. I saw a video on another channel where the pizza boy was delivering to a fraternity house, but the overall plot seemed very similar."

Dean blinked as he processed Cas' words. Apparently, the angel had been watching quite a bit of porn lately. "Are you…interested in men, Cas?"

"All of God's children are beautiful," Cas said simply.

That seemed like Cas-speak for yes. Dean supposed he shouldn't be surprised. A multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, even in a human body, seemed unlikely to care about something so mundane.

"Well, you'll be safe enough whoever you decide, considering your angel-ness and all. You'll be able to get what you're looking for." Dean's stomach twinged. He wasn't sure if he really liked the thought of some guy with his hands on Cas like that.

How stupid. Not like it was any of his fucking business.

Cas hummed, noncommittal. He stood up, reaching, Dean thought, to grab the empty beer bottle from the end table.

And suddenly, Dean had a 5'11, 170lb angel sprawled face down across his knees.

"Cas, what the hell?!" he yelped, struggling wildly to stand. That wasn't exactly easy with 170lbs of well-muscled angel in his lap. He shoved at him almost instinctively.

Cas tumbled to the floor in an awkward heap of elbows, knees, and trench coat, and Dean surged to his feet in shock. He stared down, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. _What the fuck?! _

Cas sat up, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms to meet Dean's eyes. Dean realized that his mouth was hanging open and he shut it. His jaw clicked. "Cas, I...What? That's not...I mean…"

The silence was thick. Dean couldn't seem to find words, and Cas appeared to be trying to gaze into his soul.

"I do not understand," Cas said quietly, staring intensely into Dean's eyes. "You informed me that it was important to do this activity with a person I trust. You are available, I am interested in experiencing this phenomenon. And I trust you."

Yes, Cas trusted Dean, and Dean trusted him back. But it was one thing to trust someone, and another to do something like this. If they did this… well, it wasn't exactly a thing that _friends_ do.

Cas was beautiful, and Dean was aware of the strong chemistry between them. Though it had always teetered on that narrow line between best friends and lovers, he'd never thought they'd cross it. And not just because he'd assumed Cas was only attracted to women.

It was an easy enough line to cross, but crossing back was nearly impossible. Dean had so few constants in his life. He wasn't sure it was worth the risk. Especially now.

He wondered what Lisa would have said. She had been pretty open, had never asked for his entire heart. She had cared about him just as he was. And then, it was over, and he'd lost her completely.

Tears pricked at the back of his throat. _Fuck_. Now wasn't the time to think about her.

He took a deep breath. "Uh…" he stalled.

Dean could feel warring impulses in his chest. One was telling him to back out now, as gracefully as he could. Suck it up and help Cas find some random hottie to show him why the babysitter was into the pizza man. He'd tried it before, when he'd thought the world was about to end. It wouldn't kill him to do it again.

The other impulse, though, said, _You're never going to have a better chance. _His crush on Cas still existed despite his attempts to squash it. Apparently, the angel liked dudes too. And the idea of being the one to show this to Cas, to do it right, was appealing.

Hell, it had been awhile since he'd had anyone even ask him to spank them. It wasn't that he never did-sometimes he'd be in the mood. But he had a real type, and it wasn't generally the sort who wanted to give up control.

Then, Cas quirked his head to the side. "Ah. I understand," he said. He stood, pushing up to his feet without his hands and grabbed Dean's arm.

In less than a blink, Cas was seated on the ugly couch and Dean found himself thrown over Cas' lap with a supernatural strength. "You are more often on this side of the equation." His voice was matter-of-fact and implacable.

A frisson of fear shuddered through Dean's chest at how easily Cas had moved him. He was as powerless as a child against the angel's might. His body froze, too panicked to even fight.

Dean usually enjoyed being manhandled, but this felt different, felt terrible, like the bottom dropping out of his world. He didn't know if he wanted this, if he could even tolerate it. He hadn't even gotten the chance to seriously weigh his options. Hell, he'd only learned there were options!

His friendship with Cas was the only solid thing he had right now, and this could change it, could warp it. He couldn't even find the words to object, couldn't find _any_ words. Cas' arm across his back was the weight of the world, and all he could hear was the drum beat of his heart in his ears.

Humiliation burned unpleasantly at Dean's neck as Cas smacked him sharply on the ass 3 times in rapid succession. The resulting sting was warm, and might have been exciting if he'd been in any way prepared for it. Right now, it only brought confusion and shame.

Without any input from his brain, Dean's mouth angrily yelled, "Jesus fucking Christ, Cas!"

The silence was absolute and heavy for one long moment. The air seemed to crackle with Cas' voice rang out, and Dean heard the _**ANGEL OF THE LORD**_ in his voice.

"**How dare you blaspheme the Son of God!"**

Cas' growl was furious. Dean recoiled from the angel's wrath, but there was nowhere to go.

Cas' hand came down with angelic strength and breathtaking force, the noise elemental, like the boom of thunder. Fiery pain lit up every nerve ending from the small of his back to the middle of his thighs.

Dean let out a howl of sheer agony once his breath returned, tears of pain nearly blinding him. His belly seized with fear. He could still clearly remember Cas beating him to within an inch of his life in that dark alley, how sure he'd been that he would die at Castiel's hands.

This probably wouldn't kill him, but it might make him wish it had.

The next blow sent sizzling lightning bolts down his legs, and he flailed, helpless against the angel's strength. "Cas, p-please!" Dean begged. _Fuck_! He tried to twist, to pull away, his body going on sheer survival instinct, but Cas was immovable.

**BOOM**! He could feel the bruises blooming under his skin as Castiel's hand ricocheted off his ass again. "Cas!" Dean cried brokenly. "P-please!" He could hardly breathe. "I didn't m-mean it! I'm s-s-sorry!" His scrabbling hand found Cas' ankle, fingers digging into the skin above his sock, silently pleading with Cas not to break him, not to break _them_.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Cas.

Dean cringed against Cas' knees in anticipation of the next terrible blow. But it didn't come. There was a long silence interrupted only by Dean's choking, heaving breath. For a moment, nothing seemed real.

Then Cas shifted, resting his hand softly on Dean's back. Dean wasn't proud of the flinch it elicited.

"Dean," Cas' voice cracked slightly. "I am going to stand us up now." The angel sounded as unsure as Dean had ever heard him.

Dean gave the ghost of a nod, not that the angel needed his permission, and Cas guided his shuddering body upright, then rose so they both stood in front of the couch, only inches between them. Cautiously, every movement clearly telegraphed, Cas brought his hand gently to Dean's face.

Dean realized his cheeks were wet from tears. "'M sorry," he gasped again. Their eyes met for a moment, and Dean felt naked in all his pain. He looked down.

"I tell you, any sin and blasphemy can be forgiven," Cas said quietly, "as long as you ask. The Apostle Matthew was an idiot, but he got that right at least." He pulled Dean closer, tucking him against his chest as though the man was as fragile as spun glass. "I am sorry, Dean."

Dean could feel himself shaking. Massive bursts of adrenaline had been released into his bloodstream, and with nowhere for it to go, all he could do was tremble.

Cas' hand gently combed through his hair, the other still wrapped around his back. His face was pressed against Cas' neck and the tears kept coming, independent of the pain. He could feel them where their skin met, melting in damp rivers down into Cas' shirt collar.

"I'm sorry Cas," Dean murmured hoarsely again. Three blows. Three of the worst he could even imagine, but three. He ought to be angry, ought to be furious-it wasn't the first time he'd pulled out that particular blasphemous phrase and he'd never had an angel beat his ass for it-but all he could muster was a deep sadness.

Something had broken.

"I believe I should have conferred with you more prior to beginning this endeavor," Cas said, and he no longer sounded like the gates of heaven speaking through the limited range of a human throat. He sounded very human and remorseful. Dean could feel the angel's jaw moving against his cheek as he spoke. "I did not recognize that your reluctance was more than worries about positioning. You… you were not prepared to participate. This is what prompted your blasphemy, correct?"

Dean nodded into Cas' shoulder. The hand in his hair pressed tighter.

"My smiting was disproportionate, especially for a human," Cas said.

_Smiting_, Dean decided, _was a good word for it_. His entire backside throbbed mercilessly from lumbar to knees, and he wondered if he'd even be able to walk.

There was no question he wouldn't be able to sit.

As though Cas had heard his thoughts, he turned his head slightly, his lips pressing deliberately against Dean's temple. Every place where their skin touched suddenly flashed hot. Then the heat was gone, and so was the pain.

Dean's knees went weak from the sudden absence of agony, and Cas' arm tightened to keep him on his feet.

"You healed me," Dean mumbled, surprised.

"I harmed you," Cas replied. "It was not fair treatment."

Dean swallowed. "It really wasn't," he agreed quietly. He pushed back from Cas' chest, and Cas let him.

Dean no longer had any illusions about his ability to make the angel do anything.

Cas' blue eyes were so concerned, filled with genuine remorse. Dean felt like he was drowning.

"I will not do it again." Cas took a deep breath. "I am truly sorry, Dean," he said.

Dean's chest suddenly felt tight. Where the hell did they go from here? Looking at Cas, he could see that the angel didn't know the answer either.

"I can't...I don't…" Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. "I need some time, ok?" He wasn't ready to think about forgiveness yet. He didn't want to think at all.

Devastation flashed plain across Cas' face before he very deliberately schooled his expression to neutrality. "Of course," he said softly. "Whatever you need."

Dean's heart jerked painfully in his chest.

The sound of a knock on the door startled both of them, and Dean moved on autopilot, grabbing his gun from the table along the way.

A glance through the spyhole showed Sam and Samuel. Dean took a deep breath, scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his flannel, and rolled his shoulders back, deliberately burying his emotions under _Dean Winchester__TM_. He could drink his feelings away later.

Right now, they had more important things to do.

* * *

The rest is rated MA. If you would like to read it, I am over on AO3 under the same author name.


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